


They Are Out There, They Have To Be.

by Peace_Love_and_MyFandoms



Category: Jack Ryan (TV), Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Canon Related, F/M, Friendship, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mentions of War, Mentions of loss, Scars, Secrets, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-23 03:23:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17675525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peace_Love_and_MyFandoms/pseuds/Peace_Love_and_MyFandoms
Summary: Grace Stevens, a science fiction writer among other things, just moved to Roswell. She's been looking for others like herself her entire life. Leaving clues in her writing, hoping that someday her real family would come to find her. But it's been nearly 20 years and nothing. Who knows, maybe she will find what she is looking for in Roswell.I am essentially adding my OC, Grace, to the show Roswell New Mexico and will follow what happens as closely as I can while adding her and others in. As far as warnings go, its about the same as the show. Mentions of sex, loss, war, and all the rest. I will put warnings in the notes before individual chapters.





	1. Crash Down for Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But where does a writer go when the library is closed? And who could she meet there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter takes place right before the start of Episode one. I am trying to keep as close to the show as I can while adding my own Original Characters.
> 
> This is my first story on AO3 or anywhere.

Grace  
The Library was closed. Who closes a public library at 2 o’clock on a Thursday?  
  
Using the edge of her sleeve, Grace wiped at the window to better see the opening times posted on the inside of the door. It looked like Roswell Public Library would not reopen until Thursday at noon. Great, now what was she going to do. She had planned to have an afternoon of quality research time, preferably in a nice air-conditioned space.  
  
Turning around, Grace squinted down the granite steps and contemplated where she would go next. The sun was hot on the top of her head and she could feel her skin drying out as she stood there. The scar tissue along her right leg was starting to itch, even though it was protected from the beating sun by a long peasant skirt.  
  
Feeling annoyed with herself for not looking the library hours up before walking into town, Grace decided to try and make something of her day. She headed to the Diner she’d seen on her way here. It had not looked to busy when she’d walked by. Hopefully, they were not the type of place that would care if she sat there all afternoon.  
  
There weren't a lot of people around, it was 2 o’clock on a Thursday. A time when normal people would be at work. Those few people she'd passed on her way across the square, had looked too focused on their own problems to notice her. The tourists, that were part of the town’s main revenue stream, would probably not show up until the weekend. There were flyers for alien related attractions all over town as well as for a high school reunion that weekend and some fundraiser drive thru the following week. 

 

Grace smiled to herself as she walked into the Crash Down Cafe. It was practically empty with only one customer sitting at the counter. His back was to the door but she could see that he was reading a paper.  
  
Like so many things in Roswell, the diner was alien-themed. Every inch of available wall space was occupied with pictures, newspaper and magazine clippings, and random space-themed objects. They certainly knew what would attract tourists. Little green men galore.  
  
A number of framed pictures on the wall looked like they might actually be old to be real. Grace was examining the oldest looking pictures of Foster Ranch when a voice from the counter said.  
  
“You can sit anywhere you like.”  
  
Looking around Grace smiled sheepishly at the fellow. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw his face. The guy was hot. In a sleepy town, cowboy, type of way. Their eyes met and it took her a second too long to look away. Heart pounding Grace tried to say something but her throat had gone dry. Clearing it she thanked him and looked around.  
  
Claiming the nearest booth, Grace pulled out the menu stuffed into a holder set against the wall and studied it. Holding the menu up in front of her Grace tried to hide her blush from the stranger. Her heart was beating fast. She could practically hear it.  
  
Grace internally berated herself for reacting in such an embarrassing way. She was not some fifteen years old, who got flustered when she saw an attractive person look at her.  
  
She was so focused on the menu and her own inner thoughts that she clearly did not hear the cowboy get up and walk over to her booth.  
  
“Coffee?” he asked from her right. He was holding a steaming pot and white diner mug.  
  
Grace gave a start of surprise and just looked at him stupidly.  
  
The cowboy gave a small grimace as he explained. “Arturo had to run to the store. I thought you might like some coffee while you wait.”  
  
He was so tall standing beside the table. She didn’t want to look at his face so instead stared at his overly large belt buckle as she said. “Ugh. Thanks.” Realizing what she must look like she was staring at, Grace pulled the cup of coffee towards herself and stared down into the dark liquid. The steam felt good on her flushed skin. The moisture rapidly cooling in the air.  
  
“Are you just visiting?” He asked. She heard the creak a stool and glanced up. She had to look over her steam coated glasses to do so.  
  
Grace must have looked suspicious because the cowboy held up both hands in a placating gesture. “Oh, it’s ok I work for the Sheriff's department.” He pulled out a shiny sheriffs badge and leaned across the space to give her a better look.  
  
Grace leaned forward into the aisle and squinted through the slowly defogging glasses at the piece of golden metal. It looked real enough.  
  
“Oh ugh, No. Just moved here.” Grace said leaning back and picking at the edge of the laminated menu. Her palms were starting to sweat. With the heat, obviously. Not because of the hot cowboy sheriff deputy guy. She had a boyfriend for Christ's sake.  
  
“Welcome to Roswell.” He lifted his own coffee in salute.  
  
Grace gave him a polite smile, not meeting his eyes, and went back to studying the menu. She could feel him still watching her. When it got to a point when she read the same special three times without taking in the information she looked back up.  
  
“Yes?” She had no idea why she was being rude. This was a small town, people talked to each other in small towns. Strangers were new and shiny. He was just being curious. They were the only two people in the diner, who else was he going to talk to. No reason to freak out. Stop being so paranoid Grace!  
  
“Oh Sorry. Have we met before? You look familiar.” The deputy cowboy said giving her a strange look. No reason to freak out Grace.  
  
“Doubt it. I came here once when I was a kid. I’ve have been mostly on base or unpacking since we got here.”  
  
“You work for the airforce?” His eyebrows raised.  
  
Grace knew what she looked like and tried not to be offended.  
  
“No. My boyfriend works on base. In Logistics. We have a place in town.”  
  
“That’s gotta be tough. Moving around a lot.”  
  
Grace took a sip of her coffee and made a noncommittal noise. When was this Arturo person getting back? She felt like her whole body was on edge.  
  
“So what do you do?” He asked.  
  
What to say? The simplest answer is always best.  
  
“I’m a writer.”  
  
The deputy sat up a little straighter. “What kind of writer?”  
  
“Fiction. Science fiction is my main focus so it’s kind of fortuitous that we moved here.” Grace shrugged still tense shoulders.  
  
The deputy gave a half smile and gestured to the walls. “Yeah. Plenty of inspiration.”  
  
“I’m looking forward to incorporating the local legends into my stories. Do you know any you want to share?” Grace dug into her messenger bag and pulled out a leather-bound notebook. It was half full, stuffed with notes, flyers, and copies of copies of pictures.  
  
“Sorry, I’m the wrong person to ask. I never bought into the whole alien thing. No offense.” He looked away as he said it and took a sip of his coffee.  
  
Grace felt herself start to relax. Talking. I’m just talking to a normal person. No reason to be nervous. “It’s alright I don’t believe either. But that's why they call it fiction. You should see some of the crazy stuff people believe on the internet.” She flipped through her notebook and was about to tell him about a cow whose family believed was abducted by aliens because its cafe was albino when a door slammed in the kitchen.  
  
“Max! Thank you for keeping an eye on the place… Oh. Hello!” The previously absent Arturo he stepped out of the kitchen and following the cowboys stare, saw Grace. He was trying to tie an apron around his waist and push a headband of wobbly antenna onto his head at the same time.  
  
“So sorry for the wait. My kitchen guy is out today.”  
  
“It’s all right. Max here got me coffee.” Grace said pointedly to the Deputy in an attempt to further overcome her nerves with sarcasm.  
  
“Oh!” Max exclaimed. “Sorry. Max Evans.” He said, extending his hand to hers.  
  
“Grace Stevens.” She said rising from her seat enough to shake his hand.  
  
When their hands met there was a spark with an audible zapping sound. Grace immediately let go. Max wiped his own hand on his jeans as if to wipe off the lingering static electricity that she could feel like the tingle along her own fingers.  
  
“Oh. It can get pretty dry around here. Happens all the time with these old booths.” Arturo said, walking around the counter to stand in front of Grace’s booth as if nothing strange had just happened. Holding up an order pad he asked “What can I get you? Coffee is on the house as thanks for waiting.” 

  
  


By the time Grace was done ordering Deputy Evans was gone. She was honestly relieved. That had been weird right? But it was probably just like Arturo said, static electricity. She was just on edge. New town, people believing in aliens all around her, it was bound to make a girl go a little mental.  
  
Instead of staying in the booth Grace moved to the counter, bringing her notebook with her. Arturo had promised to tell her some of his favorite alien crash stories he’s heard of.  
  
All thoughts of the deputy and her strange reaction to him were gone as she soaked up Arturo’s story. Her hand was cramping by the time a plate of fries and a juicy burger were laid out in front of her. It had been a story of the crash and the mysteries surrounding it. Strange disappearances and what the government was keeping from them. It would supply her with enough new story ideas to keep her editor happy for a little while.  
  
As she dug into her burger Arturo gave her a look. “What?” Grace asked behind her hand.  
  
“Grace Stevens right?”  
  
Grace nodded.  
  
“Any relation to Alex Stevens the author of those Sci Fri books my customers love?” Arturo asked, leaning against the back counter with a rag over his shoulder.  
  
Swallowing her mouthful of beef, Grace gave him a rye smile. “That's my pen name.”  
  
“Ah. Your heroine is an alien yes? And she defends earth from the bad aliens?”  
  
“Something like that.”  
  
“And will she come to Roswell and kill all the aliens who secretly control the town?” Arturo laughed at his own plot twist.  
  
Hope chuckled as well but then said seriously. “The main character is motivated by finding her real family, so who knows. Maybe she will find them in Roswell.”

 

Max  
He practically ran out of the diner. He had not lost control of his powers like that in years. Clenching and unclenching his hand Max could still feel that shock of electricity. Could she be like them? Glancing over his shoulder, through the large front windows he saw bounce over the counter and pull out that over the full notebook. One leg was tucked under the other as she leaned forward and starting writing. Max could see Arturo talking as he stepped into the kitchen. Arturo liked to tell people stories. Maybe she was just a writer who was interested in aliens. She’d mentioned the air force base nearby.  
  
As he walked over to his truck the idea that there were more like himself, Isabelle and Michael became less and less likely. They were the only ones. It was probably just static shock like Arturo said. He was tired and that place brought back painful memories. That was all. Just a mind trick.  
  
But then why had he been so certain he knew her?  
  
*ring* *ring*  
  
Glancing down at his phone he groaned. It was Valenti.  
  
“Yes, boss?” Max answered.  
  
“You’re late! We need to be at the checkpoint in an hour. Immigration will be waiting for us.”  
  
Max turned the key in the ignition and his truck rumbled to life.  
  
“Got it, boss. Where are setting us tonight?”  
  
“285”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it!


	2. Her Two Favorite People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waiting outside the restaurant for Jack and Alex, Grace meets another handsome stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during dinner time the day Liz gets back into Roswell.
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of war, trama, injuries, and recovery.

Grace  
Dear Grace, 

I hope your move is going well. I know you requested the next six months off from public appearances, but Kelly Bridges had her baby early. Now she can’t make her appearance at the UFO Museum and Research Center “Writing for the Stars” Conference. Could you step in? She was scheduled to sit on the main panel, do a Q&A then do a book signing. This the UFO Museum’s first year putting on this conference so they are uncertain what the turn out will be like. The pay is decent, and you’re already right there. 

I think this would be a great opportunity for you. 

It is next week. Let me know ASAP. 

Karen Mullens

Junior Publisher Comet Publishing

 

The air was starting to cool as Grace read through the email on her phone. She was sitting on a bench outside a small Chinese Restaurant waiting for her dinner companions. Tugging down the sleeves of her sweater Grace bit her lip, thinking. Karen was probably right, it would be good to go. But she was tired. Between the move and the craziness over the last year, she wanted some downtime. Time to investigate the crash for herself. Time to explore the area. If there was a real crash… nope. She would not get her hopes up again. 15 years of being let down should have taught her something.

Grace was lost in thought as she did not realize she was gaping at the bar across the street without seeing it. She was so focused on her own thoughts that she did not look away from the neon pony sign when someone beside her asked. “What is that thing on your bag?”

“It’s from a book series,” Grace answered automatically. That question did not elicit the same excited response as it had when she’d first painted it. People were just being curious, and it did sort of look like something out of an anime.

“Which one?” the voice was male. Grace tore her eyes away from the flashing sign to look up at the person who’d asked the question. The answer paused on her lips as she took in the curly hair and furrowed brow. Her heart skipped a beat. Again. What was with all these hot guys making her all flustered!

The sun was directly behind the stranger, so Grace had to shade her eyes in order to keep looking at him. With her free hand she pulled the messenger bag onto her lap. Running a suddenly shaking hand over the exterior flap to ensure he could better see the white symbols painted there. They had been fading for a while and Grace had been planning to repaint the stylized symbols at some point. She just hadn’t gotten around to it. Yet.

Her heart was beating fast when she finally managed to get out. “The... ugh. Hope Chronicles.” Her books. Her lore.

He grunted in acknowledgment. But Grace could not read his face, the sun was too bright. The stranger was still standing over her, presumably looking at her bag when the phone in her hand beeped. 

Automatically looking down, Grace saw that there was a message from Alex. 

“Here.” Was all it read.

Grace sprung to her feet in excitement, and nearly collided with the stranger. He stepped back and reached a hand forward as if to balance her, but Grace caught herself on the back of the bench. She was so focused on looking up and down the street that she ignored the man in front of her. Standing on tiptoes she saw him. A man at the far end of the street stepped out from behind a truck. He was dressed in jeans, a pale blue button up, and using a cane. His movements were jerky as he stepped over the curb. 

“Alex!” Grace shrieked, wavering wildly in his direction. 

“Excuse me.” Grace mumbled to the hot guy next to her and ran down the street. Skirt flying and messenger bag banging hard against her hip. 

 

Alex was not braced for her enthusiastic greeting. Slamming into him Grace threw her arms around his neck, smiling ear to ear. Alex wrapped his free arm around her waist and squeezed back even as he worked to keep them upright. When Graces feet hit the ground again Alex wrapped his other arm around her, completing the embrace. They held onto each other desperately, like two children who’d been away from each other for far too long. 

Unwrapping her arms, Grace placed both hands on the sides of his often to serious face. She pressed their foreheads together. The stubble on his cheeks scratched her palms and his forehead was hot against hers. “I can’t believe you’re here.” Grace said breathlessly, still smiling. 

Alex continued to hold onto her waist. She could feel the heat of his hand through her clothes and the cool metal of the crutch. “It’s good to see you too.”  
He was here. And standing. And walking! There had been days when neither of them had thought they would ever be able to do either. Those had been the dark ones when they’d first met on a transport plane from Afghanistan headed to the closest air force hospital in Germany. When they’d finally been deemed out of the woods, they’d both happened to be on the same plane to Virginia. She’d had no idea if it had been chance, fate or someone’s good idea but they’d ended up sharing a room in at the VA in Arlington. Grace was so proud of her hospital room roommate. It was so great to see him. She’d missed him and had been over the moon when Jack had texted her earlier to tell her Alex was stationed in Roswell.

“Gah!” was all Grace got out as she let go of his face and wrapped her arms around Alex’s waist and squeezed. Stepping away Grace readjust her sweater and pull her bag back onto her shoulder. Turning back the way she had come Grace linked arms with him. 

The after-work crowd around them had given them space. She’d even gotten a few looks. But Grace did not mind. She had Alex by her side. 

They slowly made their way towards the Chinese Restaurant Alex had suggested. Until suddenly Alex stopped dead. Grace glanced into his face but Alex’s eyes were focused ahead of them. Tires squealed and a horn beeped. Alex’s mouth was slightly open and there was an expression on his face that Grace did not recognize. A crease appeared between his eyebrows as he squinted into the sun, tracking someone as they crossed the street. 

Looking around Grace guessed that it was the guy who’d asked her about her bag. His head was down, and he was hurrying through the small crowd of people in front of the Wild Pony. 

“Do you know him?” Grace asked, squeezing his arm. 

Alex blinked and looked down at Grace as if he’d forgotten she was there. “Oh. Ugh. Not anymore.”

Grace raised an eyebrow and would have asked more questions, but Alex jutted his chin at the restaurant and said. “We should get inside.”

Accepting her friend’s decision not to share Grace continued to walk towards the restaurant. But Alex’s eyes kept going back to the bar.

“You know, we could get a drink, if Jack is going to be late?” Grace offered but Alex just shook his head.

“He was working on something but said he was right behind me.”

Graced snorted. Jack was dedicated. If he was working on “something” then it could be hours before he showed up or even thought to call. 

 

Michael  
He knew that symbol. It looked like the ones that were inlaid into the section of spacecraft he’d been able to dig up at the ranch.

But she’d said it was from a book series. The Hope Chronicles? He’d have to hit the book store or Amazon. The Library had banned him for unpaid fines when he was sixteen. Which was funny because they had stopped fining late books now. But the ban still held. The power of a bad reputation. 

Any concerns as to why real alien langue would be in a popular book left his head as soon as he saw who the curvaceous and strangely familiar women was running towards. She’d thrown herself onto Alex Manes.

Michael stood in utter shock as Alex’s free hand wrapped the around the women’s back and pulled her close. Then Michael saw Alex’s other hand, still holding his crutch, go around her as well. From his distance and with the stream of pedestrians in the way, he could not see be too sure but it looked like they were kissing. KISSING. 

Nope. Michael was not jealous. He had no reason to be jealous. He just needed a drink or eight, and maybe to hit someone four or five times. 

Turning on his heal and Michael started walking across the street, right in front of a car. The driver slammed on his breaks. The car would have hit him if he had not stopped it, unintentionally, with his powers. The driver glared at him and laid on the horn, not realizing the reason he had stopped in time. Michael glared at the driver and kept walking, now keeping a sharp hold on his dangerously uncontrollable power. He paid no mind to anyone else around him. His one goal, once he made it into the Wild Pony, was to get so drunk that he would forget that he saw Alex’s hands on someone else.

 

Grace  
Jack arrived at the restaurant just as the appetizers were placed on the table. 

“Sorry, Sorry. Awe man, those smell good.” 

Graced looked up at her freakishly tall man as he stepped behind her chair and lean over her to give her a quick kiss. She had to lift from her chair ever so slightly to accept it but it was a small price to pay. One she would happily keep paying if he kept kissing her. 

“We ordered for you.” Grace told him as he shrugged off his blazer and hung it over the back of the chair next to hers. 

“That’s fine.”

“Hey man.” Jack reached across the table to shake Alex’s hand in a form of greeting. 

Alex accepted the handshake and would have stood but Jack waved him back as he dropped into his own seat. 

“Can I get you anything to drink?” a server asked from Jack’s elbow. They were very prompt in helping him. But Grace and Alex had had to wait what seemed like forever for anyone to notice they were there. 

“Just a beer. What he’s having.” Jack pointed to the bottle in front of Alex. It was a regional one that had a picture of a coyote on the label. 

All three were selecting from the array of appetizers when the server returned with the beer. Somehow the topic of baseball came up and Jack and Alex would not shut up. Baseball was not Graces’ favorite subject to talk about but she did enjoy watching the games, so she was able to partially follow what they were talking about. But really, she was just enjoying the looks on two of her favorite people’s faces as they talked about different players stats and who they thought would make it to the world series. 

Alex was giving them a list of good local only places to visit when dinner was finally brought out. The arrival of food but a stop to all conversation as they piled their dishes high with a variety of dishes. Grace and Alex might have gone overboard. They were all going to have plenty to bring home. 

“So, what did you do with your day?” Alex asked as the need to inhale the food in front of them lessened. The question was directed at Grace since Alex was one of the few people who knew that what Jack really did was classified. 

“I finished unpacking and was going to go to the library…” Grace began. 

“The library closes early on Thursdays,” Alex said as if everyone somehow knew that. 

Grace mockingly glared at him and continued. “But it was closed. So, I spent the afternoon in the Crash Down Cafe. The owner told me a bunch of good alien stories, so I’ve been camped out in a booth there all afternoon working on stuff.” Grace shrugged and slurped up more Lo Mein. She was definitely not going to mention the attractive deputy. 

“Oh! I started your alien series. I’m only on book two but it’s really good so far.” Alex said as if he only just remembered to mention it. 

“Awe thanks.” Grace could feel herself blushing. Jack nudged her shoulder with his and winked. He was a very supportive boyfriend. She had no idea why she’d gone all gooey eyed over those other people. Even now Jack still gave her belly a little flip. 

Alex continued, “I even sent a set of your ‘Archie the Alchemist’ books to my niece for her birthday. My sister-in-law says they were a hit.” 

“Thanks, Alex. My publicist says they are doing pretty well with the middle school crowd right now. She actually emailed me today. She wants me to talk at some sci-fi writers conference that the UFO Museum is hosting next week.”

 

The air had cooled considerably by the time they stepped out of the restaurant, each holding a heavy bag of take-out containers. 

Grace groaned and patted her extended belly. “I’m so full!”

“I’ll get the car and meet you by Alex’s truck.” Jack offered, handing Grace their bag of take-out and walking briskly down the street. Grace had no idea how he could walk so quickly, she felt like she could roll home. If the route was not bumpy or had any steep inclines. God she was stuffed.

She was about to say as much to Alex, but he was looking towards the bar again. The Wild Pony. 

Taking his arm Grace steered him in the direction of his truck.

“So, are you going to tell me who that guy was?” she asked, all innocence but still giving his arm a squeeze to remind him that she was there for him. 

“Someone I knew in high school. We ah…” He let the sentence peter out. After taking a deep steadying breath he continued, his face and voice resigned. “It does not matter anymore anyway.” 

Alex remained silent after that. Grace stayed by his side and rested her head on his shoulder as they walked to his truck and leaned against it, waiting for Jack to pick her up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it.


	3. How was your day?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returning back from dinner Grace tries to ask Jack about his day.
> 
> Warnings: Sex (Not any more expicit then YA novels that I have read but it eludes to fingering and orgasms), Mentions of trauma, injury, and loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These scenes occur around the time Liz takes over the cafe for her dad and the events that follow.

**Grace**  
“How was **your** day?” Grace asked from her place perched on the kitchen counter. The kakis Jack was wearing were pulled tight across his ass as he squatted in front of the fridge and Grace craned her neck to admire the view. Her bare feet were beating out an untimely rhythm on the cabinets beneath her.  
  
Jack glanced up quickly but continued to stack take out containers along the bottom of their fridge. “Oh you know, lots of manifests and receipts.” Jack did not look at her as he spoke, but she could see a sly smile cross his lips. Liar.  
  
Grace snorted and poked one of his broad shoulders with her toe. Jack swatted at her foot and pulled two items from the door of the fridge before standing. The fridge rattling as he kicked the door closed. He held out a mason jar, with the label for a brand of Vermont Moonshine, to Grace who took it from him gratefully. The cold glass felt good in the sweltering second floor apartment. Apparently, there was a reason she’s seen so many windows open during the afternoon walk from the cafe to dinner.  
  
“Yeah but really. How was your day?” Grace tried again, holding the chilled container to the side of her neck. She shivered at the contact with her bare skin.  
  
Jack smiled mischievously before twisting of the top of his beer. He took a swig before pulling his phone out of his pocket and placing it on the counter beside Grace. Letting his eyes travel up her body he stepped between her legs and ran his free hand up her calf. Bunching up her skirt and slipping his hand under the fabric. The movement sent a chill of a very different kind up Graces’ spin. Jack was leaning into her, his eyes searching her face before focusing in on her neck.  
  
But before he could get very far Grace stopped his invasion into her personal space by putting the cold jar against his chest. She pushed him back just enough that she could look him full in the face as she said, voice unintentionally husky.  
  
“You did not answer my question.”  
  
Jack put the beer still in his hand down on the counter, plucked the jar from Graces now cold fingers and placed it beside her.  
  
Grace tried to keep a scowl on her face as he moved in again but her wants were outweighing her curiosities. His hand slid ever so slowly further under her skirt.  
  
Along her inner thigh. Grace’s body was tense and hot in places they had not been before. Her breath came faster as he leaned in to whisper in her ear.  
  
“Manifests and Receipts.”  
  
Grace moaned, her head thrown back as he kissed along her neck. Grace ran her hands up his chest and brought his face to hers, kissing him eagerly. His breath was hot in her mouth as she reached down to tug at the hem of his shirt. She just wanted to feel the warmth of his skin against hers.  
  
Jack silently laughed in victory. She could feel the rumble moved through his chest. His mouth smiling as she continued to pull kisses from him. But any thought of getting back at him was banished when his figures found there way all the way up her skirt. 

  


Walking back into the bedroom, a very satisfying amount of time later after having done the post coitus, necessities, Grace handed Jack a glass of water. The bed was a rumpled mess, the comforter had been bunched up in front of the headboard. Their cloths were scattered around the floor and the only light came in from the hallway. Jack was reading something on his phone with his back against the headboard.  
  
“Did whatever call you were waiting for come in?” Grace asked crawling onto the foot of the bed and tucking her legs beneath her. She’d but on underwear and a t-shirt when they’d gotten out of bed and she was still hot. She had no idea how he was able to wear sweatpants, even if he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Damn he was hot without a shirt on. Those arms.  
  
Grace unscrewed the top of her “Moonshine” and took a long gulp. It tasted better straight than any real liquor she’d ever had but it was less conspicuous to mix it with water and put it in a liquor container. Or ,for daytime purposes, to mix it with water and put it in one of the metal water bottles that had thankfully gotten popular.  
  
Grace cleared her throat. Jack still had not answered her. He was frowning at whatever was on the screen.  
  
She’d noticed the way he’d made sure the phone was in view during dinner and how he’s taken it out of his pocket before he’d “distracted” her.  
  
Not that she was complaining about those distraction. She thoroughly enjoyed those. And so, if she had any guess, did he.  
  
“Not a call. The results from my query came back and I think there might be something there. But I wanted to show you this.” Jacks voice so excited a moment before became cautious as he pulled the comforter away from the thick thrift shop headboard. There was an upside-down hand print burned into the wooden surface. Even without her glasses, Grace knew what it was.  
  
No. Oh God No.  
  
“Shit!” Grace cried scrambling away from Jack and the headboard as if it were on fire. In her panicked heist she spilled half the jar of clear liquid all over herself, the bed, and… oh god… the newly stained hardwood floor. The strong sent of antiseptic filled the room blocking out everything else.  
  
“Shit!” Grace cried again, this time holding the now frosty container to her stomach so it would not spill and rushed from the room.  
  
Returning from the kitchen with a dishtowel Grace threw herself onto the floor at the foot of the bed and pressed the towel into the puddle there. Soaking up the strong-smelling liquid.  
  
“Oh god, please be ok. Please be ok.” She dabbed at the floor, trying to soak up as much as she could without spreading it around.  
  
Jack returned from the direction of the bathroom holding a wet towel. He must have gotten up when she’d left the room. Crouching down beside her, he put a gentle hand on her shoulder before handing her the washcloth. Grace took it from him and tossed the used dishtowel onto the bed. It could not permanently damage that.  
  
Grace’s hair had mostly fallen out of its stubby pony tail. She it blew out of her face impatiently as she cursed to herself. Jack stayed crouched beside her while Grace used the washcloth to soak the area and then wipe the excess liquid up again. The goal was to dilute the solution enough so that it would not harm the floor.  
  
Finally moving the washcloth, Jack and Grace could see that the floor was only slightly faded, the varnish partially burned away by the liquid in her glass. Grace’s stomach dropped.  
  
Shit.  
  
“I should get the mayo.” Grace’s voice was tight. She was about to stand from her kneeling position on the floor, until Jack put a gentle hand on her arm. It was as if all the energy was sucked from her.  
  
Grace rolled off her knees and sat down hard onto the floor. Suddenly aware she was shaking, with what? Nerves? Fear?  
  
“We can do that later… Grace?” Jack’s voice was kind as he said her name. But she did not look at him, instead Grace kept her eyes on the floor. On the dull spot. They would totally lose their security deposit.  
  
Jack made a move to get closer, but Grace flinched back. Her bare thighs squeaking along the hardwood floor. Still not looking at him, Grace absently stroked a thick scar at the top of her thigh, just below her hip.  
  
The silence was getting too heavy.  
  
She could feel the concern and worry coming from Jack. His need to fix it. Make it better. But there was no making it better.  
  
Grace glanced across the bed at the headboard. She could just make out the slight discoloration of where the handprint was. That hand print, it had been hers. What if it had been Jacks already scarred back? His arms. His face! She could have been touching him when she... Oh God!  
  
Graces stomach rolled.  
  
She did not even remember doing it.  
  
Grace stood so abruptly that she nearly fell over as her legs protested the sudden rush of blood. Her right leg screamed as she put her weight on it. But Grace did not sit back down. Instead she gritted her teeth and limped to the door. Jack did not move but stayed crouched at the foot of the bed, watching her go. 

  


Jack found Grace outside, arms wrapped protectively around herself, her hands shoved under each arm. She had her back to the door and was sitting at the top of the stairs leaning against the railing, looking up into the clear night sky. Her legs were folded in close to her body with her bare feet on the top step. They shared the second floor with two other apartments, but their windows were dark so Grace had figured no one would care if she was blocking the stairs this late at night.  
  
She heard their door open but didn’t turn around. Grace was exhausted, emotionally and physically. The shaking had stopped but Grace’s mind was still a tornado of emotion. Blame and guilt were at the forefront.  
  
“You should drink something.” Jack said handing her the still half full moonshine jar before sitting down beside her. He was wearing his Boston College hoodie, the one he’d had since grad school.  
  
Grace had remembered to grab her long sweater and glasses before she’d left the apartment. The sweater was large enough that she was able to pull it over her knees and protect her legs from the nights chill.  
  
Untucking her hands, Grace took the container and cradled it in front of her without taking a drink. She didn’t deserve him. She could have hurt him. She could have burned the place to the ground. It was all her fault. All her fault. She just wanted to not. Not be here. Why had she come here? Why did she have to be born?  
  
Jack leaned back. His arms were propped behind him and his eyes followed her gaze to the stars above. “Do you think this crash was real?” he asked mildly.  
  
It was a ploy. A ploy to get Grace talking. To get her out of her own head.  
  
“Well, all the alien stories are bull.” Grace took a sip. It was good, stronger. He’d added more. She kept drinking and thought about what she had learned online and since coming to Roswell. “But, something must have happened to spark the hysteria.”  
  
Jack sat up next to her as Grace downed the last of her beverage. “It was probably an asteroid with some precious metal or something. That would explain why the military converged on it.” Grace continued, handing the empty glass to Jack who took it from her and placed it behind them.  
  
Grace leaned against him, welcoming his familiar warm. Jack brushed a bit of hair out of her face and kissed her forehead. His lips lingered there for a while. Grace loved the way his thumb stocked her cheek.  
  
Finally, Jack tilted Grace’s head up, and leaned down to press their foreheads together. It was not unlike when Grace had greeted Alex. It was a show of trust. Trust that the other person knew you and your darkness, and still wanted to keep knowing you.  
  
“It could have been you. And I don’t know how…” Grace whispered. Her chest had gone tight and she wanted to simultaneously push him away and ask him to protect her. She had not had a slip up like that in years. Sometimes when she dreamed of that day in the desert the room would get a little cold but nothing like…like that. Nothing that should be intentional.  
  
Without moving his head Jack found Graces right arm and pushed up her sleeve. He stroked his thumb over the first few symbols that where inked onto her wrist. These were cruder then the others that ran up her arms and down her back. These had been the first. Done in her childhood basement the day **he’d** been accepted as an apprentice at the tattoo parlor.  
  
“What would HE tell you?” Jack’s voice was patient, steady. He just kept circling that tattoo, his thumb soft on her skin.  
  
It took Grace a while. But finally, she answered.  
  
“He would have said that everyone makes mistakes.” Grace’s voice failed. The emotions felt like they would over whelm her.  
  
Pushing them back she continued, “to take a breath.”  
  
Grace sucked in a lung full of air and leaned her head away from Jack’s. Looking to the sky she let out the breath and finished her brothers saying. “Then learn from it.”  
  
Jacks thumb stopped and he intertwined their figures. Grace made to pull her hand away, but he held on. He was putting his trust in her. She’d know ever since her bloodwork had come back normal when she’d been half dead and unable to do anything. He’d saved her, like she’d saved him. And he’d not faltered since.  
  
“Excuse me?” The voice came from the small front yard. The apartment was slightly set back from the street with some short bushes. A woman in the sheriff’s uniform moved to the bottom of the stairs. “Do you mind coming down so I can speak to you for a moment?”  
  
Jack stood up first and helped pull Grace to her feet. Her legs had grown still. Now that the sweater was not covering them, they were also cold. The sweater was long enough that, on another person, it might look intentional. To Grace, she felt practically naked with her scares showing.  
  
“Sure?” Jacks voice was wary. He did not let go of Graces’ hand as they walked down the wooden steps and met the short latina women on the front walk.  
  
“How can we help you officer?” Grace asked politely, stepping from foot to foot, the stone of the pathway was cold against her bare feet. Without looking away from the officer Jack put an arm around her shoulders, tucking her in tight. Grace crossed her arms tighter across her chest, very away she was not wearing a bra.  
  
“Sorry to make you come down, but I did not want to yell and wake your neighbors.” Jack just nodded and Grace feeling nervous, murmured something like understandable.  
  
“Are you two new in town?” The women asked. She’d pulled out small notepad and jotted down their names when Grace gave them to her.  
  
The Sheriffs eyes lingered on Grace’s scarred leg for a moment when she was done writing.  
  
“What is this about Sheriff?” Jack asked drawing her attention back to him and rubbing Graces arm.  
  
“By any chance did either of you hear the gun shots this evening?”  
  
Grace’s eye brows came together, and she frowned. “No” she started to say but Jack was already nodding.  
  
“You did? When?” It was Grace who asked, looking up at her boyfriend in shock.  
  
“You were…busy.” Jack met her eyes and Grace felt herself blush. Oh. Then.  
  
“And you did not think to call the cops Mr… ugh. Ryan?” The Sheriff had to look down at her notes.  
  
“The people who live on the farm that runs along the back of this property shoot at targets at odd hours. From inside it is hard to tell where the shots are coming from and I just assumed.”  
  
The Sheriff looked down at her notebook again and sighed. “Those would be the MacArthur brothers. They do love the 2nd amendment.”  
  
“Did something happen?” Grace asked. She’d assumed, like where she’d grown up, that Roswell would have less gun violence than DC.  
  
“Shots were fired at the Crash Down Café about an hour ago. I wanted to do a quick canvas of the surrounding blocks to see if anyone saw or heard anything.”  
  
“Is Arturo ok?” Grace asked quickly. “Was anyone hurt?”  
  
The Sheriff gave her a narrow-eyed look. “No one was hurt. Do you know Arturo Ortecho?”  
  
“I just met him today. Why would anyone want to shoot up the cafe?” Grace was shocked. The place was dorky wholesome. This was all to much to take in. Jack squeezed her a little tighter.  
  
“It probably has to do with something that happened ten years ago. But no one was hurt so I am sorry to disturb your night. Have a good evening and if the MacArthur’s hooting and hollering ever disturb you give me a call. I can send a couple of deputies out there to try and talk some sense into them.”  
  
Grace stayed silent as Jack thanked the older woman and told her that he would call if it ever got to bad. The Sheriff tipped her hat to them and continued down their street. They watched in silence she disappeared behind the edge of the building.  
  
Grace wrapped her arms around Jack’s waist and let his familiar warm settle her nervous. She’s lost control at the same time there’d been a shooting not two blocks away. It could not be connected, could it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think.  
> Much love!


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